


Pensieve's Impressions

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Series: Hatching a Future [1]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel of sorts, showing the life of Robinton up to leaving the Isles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pensieve's Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> We do plan to go forward too, but felt the background for who Robinton is now would be a good offering to make.

Robinton looked at his mother in trepidation and anticipation both, his unruly hair fighting all attempts to contain it. He fidgeted in his new robes, of the finest materials and perfect for going off to school in, even if he'd just be getting new trim and ties for them, once they knew his house affiliation.

"What if they expect me to be like _him_?" he asked, not needing to keep his voice low, for the 'him' in question was gone again, pursuing yet another whisper of a rumor about an enchanted composition.

"Then you'll set them straight, Rob-love, for you are yourself, and that is all there is to it," she answered that. "Now, you've all you need, and the train will be leaving soon. You'll do fine, make friends, and excel, my son." She smiled at him, then hugged him tight. 

"What about you?" he asked, worried for his mother being alone.

"Your father is expecting me; we have an engagement to reach soon. And perhaps I can work on the song-magic a bit more while you are away, so I can share it with you when you return," she told him. 

He squeezed her tight, then let go and went to board the train. A new melody wriggled in his soul, drawing up the magic that was his heritage. He firmly clamped it down, knowing he was to learn his father's brand of magic. Someday, he would study the differences, and push against the prejudice against the native forms. But that meant understanding the magic used by the majority of the Isles.

* * *

The blue and bronze colors of his new House suited Rob's idea of vanity, small as it was, quite finely. His eyes, after all, were blue, and would have clashed with other colors, in his opinion. He still admired his wand, cunningly crafted from hazel wood around a kelpie hair core. It might not be from the renowned wand shops of London, but his mother's kin, those of the travelling folk, had done well to find him a wand that sang to his creativity.

Coping with all of the changes was easy enough, but Rob knew he was at least somewhat homesick, as he'd not spent much time away from Merelan, his mother, and her people. His father, Petiron, had been a Slytherin, but Rob was just as glad to fall into his mother's House instead. His father was not a man Rob had ever been close to.

He pushed such aside, and focused on the new adventure of his life. There were people to meet, subjects to learn, and things to discover, after all! And, when it all boiled down to it, he did almost remember the stone walls of the school from his youngest days. Merelan had taught here once, just a couple of years, having been asked to give Professor Flitwick a sabbatical. Robinton had been just at walking, and he felt as though the suits of armor and ghosts alike remembered him, at least to some small degree.

As if in agreement with this thought of his, there was a creaking noise outside his room, though he could plainly see the doorway and hall were empty. He smiled, a private one, for the turn of his thoughts, and for the school itself.

This was now home.

* * *

Robinton made his way toward the lake, his mind on the fact that his classes really were intriguing. He even liked most of his professors, and hoped it continued past this first, hectic week. He didn't have much free time at all, with so many rules to adhere to. Part of his soul was always rebelling at that, but he knew how to behave. Already he'd had several sideways glances, as the scandal of his parents made some adults whisper, and the elder students as well. So what if his mother wasn't 'pure' in the eyes of the society his father came from? The people she was from had managed to maintain ties between their non-magical families and their wix. That made them so much better in Rob's eyes, and he would just stand taller than his detractors.

He would need to get back inside soon, but being near the water was always peaceful for him, and he'd heard the selkies here loved music, much as anywhere in the isles. Maybe by the water he could whistle a tune, or use the small panpipes in his pocket. He'd missed being able to work with music ever since he'd come to Hogwarts the week before.

His head cocked up as he heard a splash, a grin coming to his lips as he caught a finned tail vanishing. The smile faltered into a scowl almost instantly as a splash, made from a rock, followed the disappearing tail. He cast along the shore to see a boy near his own height, maybe his age, with an arm outstretched.

"Hey! Don't throw rocks at them! Just because they refuse to be classified as Beings doesn't mean they don't have feelings!" he snapped, heedless of the green robes that meant the boy was likely one of those families, like his father's, that disapproved of half-bloods like himself.

The stranger turned, his hazel-gold eyes flicking sharply over Robinton's own body, his shoulders going back and his jaw tightening, "What difference does it make to you?" 

Robinton pulled his own slim form up tall and straight, knowing it usually gave him an advantage. "I don't hold with cruelty for the sake of entertainment. And one such as you, supposedly at the top of society by birth alone, should hold yourself to as strong an ethic too!" He knew his hands were flexing, prepared for a scuffle just as his mother had taught him, feet balanced with his weight ready to shift.

The stranger stilled, his head tilting for a moment, obviously appraising him, and then he took a step forward, holding out his empty right hand. "Not many would've said that, and I think I like you for it. I'm Falloner Macmillan." 

"Robinton Stein," Rob said, making his hands still and then meet the boy midway with his own open hand. He knew that name, the family one, as a member of the purest wizarding families. His father's own name was slightly less prestigious, with neither of his paternal grandparents coming from those Sacred Twenty Eight lines. Still, Robinton, like his mother, accorded politeness for station, and respect only as earned. "I tend to say what I believe, to save the trouble of sorting out differences right at the front of it all."

Falloner nodded, his hand wrapping steady and firm around Rob's, and his mouth quirked in a quick, bright smile. "Wouldn't be a good trait in my house, but it ought to work well in yours -- and I _do_ like it. Pleased to meet you, Robinton." 

Robinton snorted at that, but he wound up smiling back. "Just don't throw rocks at the mers… or I won't help when one of them drags you in and sees how well you breathe water," he said, with a little chuckle to show he was teasing. "I think I saw you in Herbology, but I was too busy trying to keep my mouth shut. I know the common names, the ones used here in the Isles for ages."

Falloner let go, dropping his hand easy and without dropping the smile, then nodded a little. "Instead of all the Latinate ones? Yeah. Mother doesn't care for using those, either." 

Rob didn't let his own smile go away; something about this boy spoke to him. Sure, he had been angry, but some people didn't know better, and Falloner had stopped when called on it. "It's nowhere near as musical a language as the native ones of the Isles," he told the Slytherin boy. "But I have to learn 'proper magic' if I'm ever to puzzle out all the ways magic is different for different people!"

Falloner blinked, cocking his head to the side. "Isn't it just because they use words differently? Why is that what you want to do?" 

Robinton bit his lip; he'd only just met this boy, and yet he had so much need to share things he'd learned about how his mother's people and their innate magic. "Do the Sirens of Greece use their abilities the same as the Selkies in the Lake?" he asked instead. 

Falloner's gold eyes blinked again, and then he shrugged one shoulder, a little abashed and baffled, "I don't know? I mean, I wouldn't think so, you hear totally different stories about them..." 

"And yet they are closely related, all considered merpeople." Robinton flicked both of his hands in an encompassing gesture. "Why should we assume all humans do magic alike, then?" He then shrugged and gave a deprecating twist of his lips to his next words. "But it's all just ideas, for now."

Falloner shook his head, "But aren't ideas the important things to your House? Ideas and innovation and knowledge?" 

That understanding of Ravenclaw, which was so much a part of Rob's very soul, gained Falloner a brilliant smile. "That's why I'm here, so I can share my ideas some day!"

Falloner smiled back, pleased himself, and nodded. "I'm here to learn, too, but I mean to have my grandfather's Wizangamot seat with it." 

"Each person, ambitions marry to skill and provide a future," Robinton said, respecting Falloner's choice. He then turned his head toward the school at noise emanating from Gryffindor's tower. "Peeves must be busy today," he decided, before looking at Falloner. "And it's probably time to get back if he's harassing a common room already."

"You might be right," Falloner agreed, turning back towards the castle from the lake. "See you in classes, yeah?" 

"See you then."

* * *

It did not take long before Falloner's quest to rise high in their society and Robinton's thirst for knowledge had them in each other's company as often as they were to be found in their own common rooms that year. 

"How do you know so much about so many families and people?" Fal asked after Rob had shared a story about the Prewett family. Rob shrugged.

"My father, he travels a lot, guests with many wix around the Isles. And what he doesn't hear or see… mother's people often know," Rob told his friend. "You know a lot about people too," he rebutted.

Now Fal was the one to shrug, giving a grin. "Have to know my potential rivals and threats."

"Do you see me as one? Is that why you cultivate me, or is it for what I know that you don't already?"

The question was asked neutrally, and when Fal studied his friend's face, he didn't see a trace of censure. He'd learned in the last weeks, as Rob grew comfortable with him, that Robinton often asked hard questions just to see how a person reacted more than for the answer.

"You're not meant to be cultivated; you're my friend, and I won't have it any other way," Falloner answered him with more fervor than either of them had really expected. Rob held his eyes for a long moment, then tapped the book they were studying.

"Then let us study, so I don't have to pretend not to know why you failed in Transfiguration."

* * *

It was always so quiet in Hogwarts over the winter break, Robinton thought, walking the halls late in the evening. Already halfway through his second year here, how did time go so fast? He had been in the library most of the evening, and now was nearing the main entrance. It was so quiet, in fact, that he heard the sound of boots striking the floor in a staccato that sent a chill straight through his veins. 

A staccato that was coming closer, he realized, and quickly, he tucked himself into the darkest alcove he could see, and almost held his breath. Whoever belonged to those footsteps, he did not want to be seen by them! 

The form that rounded the corner was no-one he knew. Pale, almost pale as the snow outside, with a mass of black hair that hung heavy from his shoulders. His face... his face looked strange, as though he was seeing them in a wavy mirror and not truly on a person, and his eyes were terrifying. Blood-shot and almost blazing red, and he seemed to be almost _hissing_ to himself, a low incantation in something even Robinton's gift for languages did not recognize.

Who was he, and why was he here at Hogwarts? 

The man… or was he more than such a being now, with all he had learned at his grasp… once called Tom Riddle reached deep into the power within him and without, pulling at one of the corners of the foundation of the school's own magic. That strand resisted him, seeing, perhaps, the twisting of a Founder's true intent, but just as he'd learned the Secret left for him, now he would use ancient prejudice to his advantage.

The sibilant, hissing words continued to spill out with emotion and intent, infusing the stones, and one last look turned toward a very specific classroom directed the powerful curse toward its target. Only then, still thundering in rage, did the Dark Wizard sweep away and out, to realign his eventual victory around this obstacle.

Something awful had just happened, Robinton was certain of it, and it took him a long while before he stepped out of the alcove and went -- at speed -- for the dungeons. Falloner hadn't gone home either, and if he was very lucky, his friend would be the one to hear him rapping at the barely-marked stone wall that concealed the Slytherin common room. 

As most Slytherin had gone for the holidays, there were only a couple of possibilities to hear that rapping. Fate was smiling, because Falloner did come for him. One of the Shafiq daughters was studying through the break, being in her seventh year and serious about attaining the best scores of her year at exam time.

"Rob… Robinton, you're pale as a ghost!" Fal said, reaching out for his best friend, ready to drag him into the common room, House competition be damned!

Robinton shook himself, and didn't resist being drawn inside. During the year, he'd fret over getting caught, but on the holidays, and shaken as he was? No, he needed Falloner's steadying presence, and was pretty certain Hallana was far too busy trying to redeem herself within her family. After all, she'd embarrassed herself and the Shafiq family so badly in her first year, that Rob had heard of it before he even started.

"There was … someone," Robinton said, questioning if that had truly been a man, or maybe the hags had a related species now that appeared as males.

Falloner kept tugging, drawing him all the way to the great fireplace, wand flicking to draw one of the settees up almost to the hearth itself. The green lamps cast a muted light, but the fire added brightness to the room, and warmth. The firelight danced in Falloner's golden eyes as he sat down, close to Robinton, and leaned closer yet, his head tilted. "What do you mean, Rob?" he asked, soft, "there aren't strangers at Hogwarts, but..."

"I'd never seen this man, if it was, and not some being we've not learned in Defense," Robinton answered, settling his body on the settee, eyes focusing on the fire. He recalled what he had seen. "Cloaked and pale as the most vaporous of wraiths, but black hair all framed about a face that was blurred, waxen in its appearance. And he kept hissing, whispering in syllables I do not even know!"

"...a language you don't know?" Falloner asked, startled -- there were days he thought Robinton knew every language ever used on the Isles -- and disturbed by the description. "Pale, and cloaked, and black-haired... that kind of sounds like a vampire, but... not the blurry features. And anyway, what would a vampire be doing here?" 

"I don't know. Don't think it was. But… there was a spell cast. I don't know _what spell_ , but one rippled out. He'd turned to look toward some of the classrooms, and … it was strong." Robinton shuddered, and rested his head forward into his hands, heels of them against his forehead. "I've no idea what that language was. It was almost like listening to a tank of snakes all riled up at each other." One of his distant uncles, through his mother, had been a snake charmer, and Rob could still remember that susurrus.

Falloner shook his head again, rubbing at his friend's chilled hands with his, giving him a wide-eyed look. If anyone would know a powerful incantation in the making, it was his friend, but at the same time... who in Merlin's name would be casting in something that sounded like that, and why? "I believe you, Rob, but I am _totally_ confused..." 

"I'm terrified," Robinton told him bluntly. "Should I go to a Professor?" And would they listen to him? He, and Falloner, had a reputation of being troublemakers, because of their more inventive explorations of the school, among other things. He was thankful for the contact with his best friend, as it grounded him further.

Falloner made a quiet noise, low and uneasy, and kept hold of his hands. "I wouldn't go to Professor Slughorn, not with something like this, no matter how much he likes you, but I bet Professor Flitwick would. So.... if you want to, I guess yes?" 

Robinton drew in a deep breath, then shook his head. "He'd think I was trying to distract him from keeping me out of trouble this break. He promised Mother I'd be kept busy and good. As if there were anything to get into with nearly everyone gone!" That assertion felt more like himself, pushing away the chill he'd felt as adeptly as Fal's touch and the fire. "No, anyone with access to the school would have to be on business of some sort, and the school will know. Hogwarts has many charms to guard itself, I've heard."

"That's true," his friend nodded, his mouth quirking in wry agreement. "It _is_ boring with so few people here... and yeah, anyone that could get in would be known about already." The Hogwarts wards were impressive to say the least. "Do you want to stay a while?" 

Rob's lips quirked in wry acceptance of the offer, even as he nodded. "Much as I love my Tower comfort, this night, I find the dungeons, well away from where I saw that man, quite comforting," he told Falloner. "Betwixt the two of us, after all, nothing can happen, right?"

"Aye that," he agreed, and wrapped an arm around Robinton's shoulders, settling in. Whatever had upset his friend was long gone, too far for him to do anything about it, so he would do what he could here.

* * *

There were rare moments in the lives of all students when House Loyalty had to supercede all else of school, and the week of the Slytherin-Ravenclaw quidditch match was one such. There was intense amusement among the teachers and students alike at seeing the tallest of the third year boys suddenly avoiding each other, or now tossing jests and insults at one another over their broom abilities when they did come into contact.

Given that each boy had been known to sneak into the other's common room on occasion, there was much mirth as they played up a fierce rivalry in that week. When at last it was time to face off, their voices were among the loudest in the pre-game taunting, before the game was on in earnest.

Neither Slughorn nor Flitwick could fault their student's loyalty, as the game proved to be even wilder than the Slytherin-Gryffindor match had been. Thankfully, with Falloner playing as his team's Seeker, and Robinton playing as Keeper, they weren't having to charge up against one another directly, but it was just like the pair to have done such a theatrical build up to the game.

Nor did it go unnoticed that Robinton was one of the first non-Slytherin to congratulate Falloner on his catch of the Snitch, or that they were right back at each other's sides from the celebrating until curfew. Even McGonagall had to smile to see the boys fall into each other's company so easily, no sore feelings at all, despite the hard-fought game, with both Houses so closely matched for the cup this year.

* * *

Somewhere between fourth and fifth year, what had been a tight friendship became far more; while Falloner had a rocky relationship with his father, he at least had a home to go to in the summers, and had invited Robinton home that year. As Merelan and Petiron were abroad again, Rob had accepted, solidifying the strongest Ravenclaw-Slytherin bond since his parents had attended Hogwarts.

"If your dad had ever noticed us, do you think he'd care?" Rob asked, sprawled out beside the lake to watch the waves stirring under the stiff breeze.

Falloner blinked up at the sky, then rolled onto his shoulder, stretching out on his side facing him. "What? I mean... why would he?" 

Rob chuckled. "Some of your house still side-eye my ancestry. Was curious where he fell on the matter." He rolled over enough to look at his boyfriend, best friend, partner in mischief, and everything in-between. "I know your family is fairly large for one of the twenty-eight, but won't there be a fuss for you to find a good, pure mate to make wizardly babies?"

"Some of my house are more brainless than Flobberworms and have less sense than a Plimpy," Falloner replied, rolling his eyes in frustration. "And no, Father won't terribly care. He had more good to say of your Mum than your Father, the first time I mentioned you, actually. Did you know they were only a couple years apart? 

"Besides, Bravonner already wants a houseful. ...what about you, do you want them? Kids, I mean." 

Rob had grinned at that appraisal of his parents; his mother really was the more social and practical one of the pair. Then the other half of Falloner's words made him think. "Someday. My parents waited a long time to actually have me, and I think that's best." He shrugged his free shoulder, then rolled back so he could watch the lake some more. "You're not in any rush are you?"

"Not a _bit_ ," Falloner replied, dropping back himself. "Not least of which, I'm not going to have time to be pregnant until after I've gotten solidly into the Wizangamot, and that's going to take a while." 

Rob turned his head, arching an eyebrow. "So you've decided you're carrying, no discussion with me at all?" he teased.

"You're too thin and lanky, Rob," Falloner answered, looking back at him, "you'd be miserable the entire time, and no-thank-you. Besides, it might mess with your voice, and that's as not-on as the other." 

That got a snort and a nod. "Alright. We wait until you've secured your place. Gives me more time to get my research published, so I'm not working on first drafts while trying to keep our kid from setting the house on fire, or levitating the pets," he agreed.

Falloner laughed, reaching to tangle his fingers with Rob's. "Aye, that," he said, amused and warmly entertained at the thought.

* * *

Robinton watched as Falloner fell across his bed, still as proud as ever that his Slytherin boyfriend could usually get himself into the Ravenclaw area by solving the riddle, and then raised an eyebrow at the dramatic sigh.

"Robinton, they both cornered me."

The 'they' in question were two of the most eligible Pure-Blood girls in their year, Manora Bones of the Hufflepuffs and Larna Parkinson of Slytherin. They'd begun flirting with Falloner toward the end of Sixth year, as neither Fal nor Rob had much interest in being exclusive this early in their lives.

"And they did so why?" Robinton was good friends with both young ladies; he'd even escorted Manora to the Ball when Larna had gotten Falloner's assent before Manora had a chance to ask.

"...they want children," Falloner answered, raking a hand through his hair and staring at his boyfriend and partner, "and they're right determined to see them be mine -- though apparently they'd not object to you, either. 

"So why am I the one they cornered to put this to?" 

Robinton eyed his boyfriend shrewdly. "Larna's family is almost on par with yours for prestige. Manora's is good as well. But when I look at our year, or the last graduating class, I have to say, their prospects are thin." Robinton mimed his own spare frame, with a twist of his lips for the pun. "You are known to be working toward a solid future. You have impeccable breeding. You consistently score high marks. You're a mighty fine Seeker, showing good physical skill. In short, you're top of the class for 'ideal mate'.

"And it's well known that you'll only further the ambitions of anyone who ties to you, while being remarkably free of the jealous possessiveness that has been seen in some of the old families, such as the Blacks." Robinton smiled fully on those words. "As evidenced by the fact we are having this discussion, despite you and I being a known couple since our fifth year."

"...you know, most of that makes me sound like the wizard equivalent of my uncle's prize Abraxan stud," Falloner replied, watching the curve of his Rob's smile more than anything else, "which I'm not a bit sure I'm flattered by. But you're also right, I suppose. 

"Dash it all on the sands, why do I have to actually _like_ both of them?!" 

Robinton started to laugh at that, but he came and shoved Falloner over enough to join him. "Fal, my dear Serpent, they are both quite aware of one another, and of me. It sounds to me as if they want to make an unusual household, my dear." He leaned his head in against Falloner's. "And if they want to have the children, then you can keep working, and I can keep researching, and we'll both spoil the tots senseless when the ladies are off doing their things," he finished up.

Falloner shifted, leaning in closer, and hummed a tuneless couple of notes. "That -- I think I like the sound of that, actually. Father's wife will have a litter of Kneazles, which is only more reason to go right on with it!" Robinton grinned, then settled in to ponder a future where they, all four of them now, kept making tongues wag.

* * *

Larna surprised them all by choosing not to wait to start their family expansion. The exact nature of their family was a subject of gossip among some of the more prudish Families, but none could deny that the strong child Larna had birthed had the look of a Macmillan. Robinton had not made it before the birth, but he got there soon after. 

"Look at you," Rob said in a low voice, not wanting to disturb either Larna who was sleeping or Manora who seemed to be her pillow at the moment. Falloner grinned, holding their son as he sat by the fire in the largest of the bedrooms in their home. He was trying to be more hands on than his own father had been, despite the trials of getting his career moving.

"You're home for a bit, I hope?"

"Long enough to make certain our firstborn knows the sound of my voice," Robinton promised. "And to give the ladies a break in caring for him, so you don't miss anything at the office. From what I'm seeing, the Ministry needs to start minding business more carefully."

Falloner frowned at that. "Later. Tell me later, once he's asleep," Fal told his best friend, moving enough to let Rob join him.

"Later," the lankier of the pair promised, settling there to investigate the son of their home.

* * *

There had been many threats and attacks against Merelan's extended family. There always were, no matter if the unrest was in the Muggle world or the Wizarding world. When Robinton, passing through a more remote part of Scotland happened across a wagon marked by the family sign, but with the wheels broken and the sides charred, his guts twisted inside him with an aching cold. He'd come this way just to see if he could find his distant cousins, as they'd not been at a gathering nearby when they'd always made it before.

The damage was quite old, but the nature of it was so unnatural as to have dissuaded the usual scavengers. And as Robinton got close, he could feel and smell the death lingering in the air. Painful, twisted deaths done by forbidden words and wands, he knew.

He made himself look, to see the fate meted out to those who willfully mingled Muggle and Wix bloods. His stomach was sicker than ever, and his fear turned for his mother. She was a strong witch, much as his father was a powerful wizard. Surely they would be safe from this… but Rob's heart made him set his course for the last place he'd seen them.

Falloner would be safe, with Larna and Manora so well-connected. The boys, for they had two now, would be safe in the stronghold of Falloner's family estate. Robinton promised himself that he'd go to see them soon, but his parents, always on the move, were far more at risk to the violence spiralling out in their lives.

* * *

Falloner jerked his head up as he heard the fumbling crash of someone trying to enter the house proper. They'd had all the recognition words to get this far, but he gathered his wand close anyway. Ever since he'd gotten caught up in that case against one of these followers of Voldemort, there had been trouble haunting all of them.

The whole idea of it was revolting! That blood purity was a matter of anything other than choosy breeding was ridiculous. Yes, Fal had chosen two pureblood wives… or been chosen by them… but he had --

"ROB!" snatched out of his throat as he got there to see his best friend, his lover for so long, ash gray and in bedraggled, torn robes.

It was the look in the eyes, though, that cut to the core of Fal's being. He had never, in all their years together, seen Rob look defeated and lost like this.

"Rob?" he managed, a little more gently, but his first cry had brought Larna and Manora, wands at the ready, despite Manora being pregnant with their third child.

"We'll lock down the house," Larna said, shooing him to get Rob out of the atrium. "Get him cleaned up so Manora can aid him."

Falloner nodded, and picked up his lover, swearing that the man felt far lighter than usual but knowing that had to be his imagination. It had only been … three? … maybe four weeks since Rob had last been home. He took him to the room furthest from the nursery, not wanting the babies to disturb any rest Rob could get. 

As he moved to get him settled, not yet asking, a single, broken word fell from his lips. 

"Mother…."

That was the first that Rob had managed, and it seemed to put him into a worse state, ripping a noise from him, as he managed coherent thought -- or at least, semi-coherent. Fal had laid him down, his body in pain as he was still trying to shake the full effect of the hexes that he'd taken trying to defend his mother.

He'd failed her.

He could see her falling behind his eyes, and the worst of the hexes had come after. Petiron had gone into an absolute frenzy of hexes and curses -- and thrown the last hex at Rob himself -- in his delirium at losing his beloved wife.

"Oh, Rob." Falloner just leaned in, forehead to forehead, as he understood that agonized breath of a word and realized that it wasn't just unrest. Not if such an attack had happened on prestigious wix like Rob's parents.

This was a war, and he needed to get his family to safety.

* * *

"Robinton, you are not fully recovered."

Larna's words rang in his ears, even as he looked to Falloner for assistance in this matter only to see his staunchest ally shaking his head. 

"Rob, we don't have time for you to get a proper wand back, and Manora shouldn't travel alone with the boys," Falloner said. "Manora is being sensible; try to join her in that."

"She is always the sensible one." Robinton grasped at the thinnest threads of logic he could find. "We could all go now."

"Better to split up, and go in pairs," Larna said, having already laid out the best plan. "Fal has to lodge an official protest, and warn his family. I can handle mine and Manora's. You are a good hand with charm magic, and can best protect Manora and the boys right now."

"You can't win this argument, Robinton," Manora told him quietly. "And it's you with the ties elsewhere. Let your ties through your mother help us protect our next generation."

Robinton coughed and placed a hand to his chest as the exertion reminded him just how much damage he'd taken in the fight, and he'd only had Manora to heal him so far, not wanting to risk being away from his family. 

"You'll be right behind us?" Robinton asked of Falloner, of Larna, looking at each in turn.

"Three days at most, to get things in motion," Falloner promised. "Too many families already under that poison's sway here, but I've been reaching out, beyond the Isles, as this problem was growing."

"Alright. Three days, no more," Robinton agreed bitterly, then went with Manora to arrange the spells they would need. He had long ago taught Fal how to cast the misdirection hexes that his father's house was so proud of; once Manora handled the travel spell, Falloner's hex would keep them from being easily traced.

Rob just hope three days wasn't too long.


End file.
